


Meta Incognita

by MarkoftheAsphodel



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Multi, Polar Exploration Disaster, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarkoftheAsphodel/pseuds/MarkoftheAsphodel
Summary: Lewyn seeks to escape his responsibilities by running away to sea. Surely a peaceful voyage of discovery in his favored cold climes is better than facing up to his destiny in Silesse? Unfortunately for all on board the good ships Baldr and Njörun, this Discovery Service expedition is about to get into more trouble upon foreign shores than anyone is prepared to handle.





	1. The Ice Master (so-called)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes it's inspired by the Franklin Expedition. But not ONLY that particular disaster. There were rather a lot of polar missions that went sideways.

He’s made his escape.

The shores of Agustria fade to a muted green along the southeast horizon. Lewyn’s long since lost sight of Silvia and her fluttering handkerchief as the crowds lining the pier melded into an indistinguishable mass of humanity. From his canvas nest upon the main-top-gallant masthead, Lewyn sees a deep blue sea with nary a trace of berg or floe. His view to port is dominated by _Njörun_ , and a magnificent sight she makes right now with her banners flying and the decorations on her freshly painted stern gleaming beneath the sun, even if right now she’s being towed to open water rather than flying under full sail. Far off the starboard side of _Baldr_ a pair of large whales, mother and calf, cruise on their own journey to the rich seas of the fleeting northern summer. Lewyn knows those seas, the magic when all the life each frigid drop of water turns the ocean a vivid pink and the great whales come to feed in a frenzy.

His knowledge of those seas and their moods is the pretense he’s used to justify offering up his services to be Sir Sigurd’s ice-master. As there’s no ice to read in this moment, Lewyn settles into his crow’s nest and surveys the goings-on below him on the decks of _Baldr_. There’s the young midshipman in his child-sized officer’s clothes assisting the First Lieutenant with the photographic equipment. There’s Sir Sigurd with his hand on _Baldr_ ’s ornate double wheel, and behind him the slim dark shape of the Second Lieutenant. Ayra’s the only woman on board _Baldr_ , though sister ship _Njörun_ has several women in her ranks plus her captain’s own wife aboard.

At least, Lieutenant Isaach is the only woman known to be aboard _Baldr_. Just as Lewyn isn’t exactly an ice-master by trade, any number of the souls on this journey may yet prove to be not quite as they appear.

For now, Lewyn’s safe in his cylinder of canvas, high above the action, with each minute putting distance between him and everything he doesn’t want to face.

-x-

HM Baldr

Off the North Coast of Agustria

3rd May

My dearest Lord Uncle,

We departed Silvail this morning and are at present being towed by steamers which shall accompany us to our final port of call in Orgahill and thence to open water, from which they shall set us free to sail and also convey all our letters back to you. Also in our party is the transport ship _Cross Knight_ which carries ten fine oxen as well as other sundry provisions; _Cross Knight_ will be our companion to the very edge of the ice and may well be our last link with the known world for some time. We are provisioned up for three years at full rations, five years at adequate levels of sustenance, and seven years (!) if necessity requires, though in that dire case our provisions must be eked out with whatever we may forage in distant lands. Sir Sigurd and Sir Quan are both optimistic this voyage may take us but two years but have cautioned me not to be disappointed if we don’t see home again until after the third year and therefore duly I pass along to you that expectation.

I regret do not have time to write more, Uncle, but Sir Sigurd has loaded up my schedule with many duties and I am most anxious to live up to the example set my him, and by you, and by Grandfather. I have many books in our library to keep my mind well-exercised and I have had the honor and pleasure of assisting Lieutenant Dozel with the photographic equipment yesterday and to-day. He does not much like the task and I feel I may well become our resident photographer!

The Lieutenant is not the only one of our officers perhaps not best-suited to his duty; the original Ice-Master assigned to our _Baldr_ fell ill shortly before our departure and Sir Sigurd had to cast about among the locals for a replacement. A young man from Silesse answered the call and joined up on the spot but we of course did not have much time to verify his fitness to the task and Lieutenant Isaach added “so-called” against his name and rank in our manifest. But alas, I have written too much already to-day…

With deepest affection and gratitude,  
Your Nephew Oifey C.


	2. Last Port of Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewyn gets a chance to chat with his fellow Ice Master in the port town of Orgahill. Meanwhile, the Assistant Surgeon on Baldr sends a missive home to one very notable relation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you not up to your eyeballs in polar exploration disasters, the part about the Ice Master being "so called" on the manifest actually happened on the final journey of HMS Erebus (Franklin Expedition). Just so you know :)

Lewyn gets wind that several on _Njörun_ are granted leave to go ashore in Port Orgahill, his counterpart as ice-master among them. He wheedles like permission from Sir Sigurd to have a chance to bond with his new peer, though the captain gives him a smiling word of caution not to return in a state of drunkenness or with any illicit spirits concealed on his person. So Lewyn finds himself in a boat with three of _Baldr_ ’s seamen, two of them with troubling coughs who are being sent home with no shot at glory and a third who’s assigned to get fresh provisions while they’ve the chance. They meet up with _Njörun_ ’s shore leave party at the docks.

“So you must be the new ice-master,” says a tall blonde around Lewyn’s own age. Her handshake is something to reckon with.

“Lewyn,” he says, resisting the urge to rub at his wrenched thumb.

“Brigid,” she responds, though he knows at home she answers to the title Lady Brigid of Jungby, designated Heir to the House.

Brigid takes him on a tour of the port and its more interesting establishments. It’s a second home of sorts for her, she says, having served as one of her bases during her years as a privateer. Lewyn doesn’t ask how a young lady from a family so illustrious as to have a surname got around to privateering in the first place.

“There’s some strange ones up the coast,” says Brigid as they share a round of small beer in a tavern where the proprietor still addresses her as “Cap’n” over her own protests. “They don’t venture outside their own villages and don’t take kindly to strangers. Some would just as soon let a man drown at their shore than risk lending a hand.”

“Criminals?” asks Lewyn.

“In a way.” Brigid’s gray-hazel eyes narrow and she drops her voice down so Lewyn’s own ears can scarcely detect it. “Maerists. So it’s believed.”

Lewyn can feel the involuntary hitch in his shoulders. In this drinking hole they can’t see the great spire that looms over the western end of this island, the monument raised in tribute to these old dissenters, but Lewyn imagines he can sense its presence.

“I’d imagine they’d have a great hesitation in doing strangers a kindness,” is all he can say in return.

-x-

June 3rd, Grann Year 757

Port of Orgahill

His Majesty’s Ship BALDR

Dear Sir,

Your note dated the 27th did arrive on our first night at Orgahill and I thank you for it. I have enclosed the paper I’ve written on the specimens I’ve retrieved and observed to date and hope the text and illustrations prove satisfactory for publication and of interest to science. 

I am grateful for the opportunity to work under the Reverend as his every interaction with those around him shows the gravity of his thoughts and the depth of his compassion. I could not ask for a better mentor on this journey. Sir Sigurd likewise is a fine and a kind one, and I can attest the crew responds to his kindnesses as to sunlight, working all the harder to live up to the full measure of trust that he extends to them. We are well and happy and all who know you here desire to be remembered to you and to the Secretary.

I remain,

Yr affectionate brother,

Azelle V.

Ass’t Surgeon (Acting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read between the lines with Azelle's communications to Arvis. Heh. Arvis (though it'll come up again) is the Second Secretary of the Admiralty. But we'll get to him in time.


	3. The Backwards Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewyn shares the news that the sailors around Orgahill predict a mild year and good sailing. Meanwhile, Azelle observes sea creatures great and small.

Lewyn reports back to Sir Sigurd that the word on the Orgahill docks is that summer’s come early for the third year in a row, and the whalers who prowl ever deeper into the northern seas feel this year is the mildest and earliest yet. This good news— and the fresh treats purchased in the port— lead to high spirits in the officers’ mess that evening, with Lieutenant Dozel wondering aloud if it’s possible to make the entire passage around the arctic in a single summer.

“I hope not,” says the Assistant Surgeon, and then his pale face flushes dark red as he realizes this could be taken the wrong way. “I— I hope to have one winter in the ice, so as to study things…”

Sir Sigurd assures young Azelle that he’ll have time a-plenty to study the creatures he’s been hauling up by the sackful since they left Silvail. 

“I wouldn’t want you to put this in your next batch of letters home,” says the captain, “but I think we’ll make it in two summers. Three at the most. I trust you all can keep that in confidence, as I’d rather have those awaiting us pleasantly surprised by our swift arrival than fretting over us when we’re secure and well-provisioned.”

As the officers make a round of toasts to this prediction, Lewyn looks down at the silver spoon and fork he’s been required to spring for out of his own pocket change in order to take his place at this very table. Nothing about this moment seems real, not even the ceramic plate in front of him, all blue and gold with “Baldr” in flowery script across the center.

Things feel less like a dream when Sir Sigurd invites him back to the captain’s study after dinner. Sir Sigurd has four drawers for charts at his disposal but the drawers are half-empty right now. The expectation is that _Baldr_ and _Njörun_ will help fill those gaps as they chart waters never before navigated by Jugdrali.

“There’s this map, one of the earliest,” the captain says as he unrolls one that shows the continents of Archanea and Barensia. Archanea, to the east, is far larger and stretches into higher latitudes, meaning its coastline would pose the greater hazard in ice-choked seas. “If we can make it past the coast of Archanea, we should be able to slip past Barensia without much trouble.”

“Right,” says Lewyn.

“Almost all maps agree with this general placement of the lands. But this map…” Sigurd spreads another one out upon his desk. “Has it reversed. And we may be the first expedition to learn the truth beyond a doubt.”

Lewyn looks upon the map that shows Barensia to the east of Archanea. One of the northern peninsulas of Barensia curls into latitudes that the other charts say isn’t possible.

“It’s a bad projection,” says Lewyn. 

Thank the gods he’s only there to read the ice while the professional officers worry about navigating these ships.

“You can see, I hope, the value our expedition has, not just to the Admiralty but to the general welfare of Jugdral,” Sir Sigurd is saying as he puts away the maps. “A northern trade route to these lands would change the world.”

And Lewyn thinks to himself that Grannvale, having by one means or another subjugated most of the continent into a _de facto_ empire, now finds itself with a surplus of warships and sailors and needs to do something with them all. Sorting out the left hand from the right is one way of doing it.

-x-

June 11, Grann Year 757

Saw Porpoises off the bow to-day and spied a large bird similar to a Petrel off the starboard side. We are drawing ever-closer to the Arctic though I’m told it’ll be another month before we can truly say we’ve made it there. I’ve found no end of Molluscs and Crustaceans to study and Sir Sigurd in his kindness has let me make use of a table in his cabin to hold my microscope and my sketchbook. This week alone I’ve made eighteen sketches to send back with the Transport when it turns around.

Also to-day something occurred that I’m hesitant to share with the Admiralty and especially not with Arvis. Some of the crew spied floating upon water the a quantity of sea-weed, pale green touched with yellow like an Oak tree beginning to turn in Autumn. They asked me to identify it for them and as we watched, we noticed a thick stem rise above the water in a sinuous motion. It then dipped below the water and vanished, taking the mat of vegetation with it. I can only guess it to be a great Sea-Serpent tangled up in the weeds, though the more superstitious of the men are claiming we’ve sighted a Dragon. With so many witnesses the tale has already spread over to our sister ship so I’ve no hope of containing it within the pages of this journal, but I expect the marvels that await us in the Arctic will eclipse this “Dragon” and we’ll think no more of it.

A.V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire Emblem lore is a mess and the backwards map does exist though it simply appears to be wrong in light of all other game canon.
> 
> And yes, officers had to provide their own silver cutlery. Just one of those Discovery Service things that looks absurd in hindsight.


	4. Last Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the edge of the ice, the expedition encounters a whaling vessel. The chance to meet new people at these latitudes is a rare pleasure, but there's more going on here than meets the eye...

HM Baldr

North Ocean, 74th parallel

28th July

My dearest Lord Uncle,

I had thought the previous letter must surely be my last to you for some time, as _Cross Knight_ was forced to transfer over the remainder of our provisions and head back to Jugdral thirteen days ago in the face of ill weather. Poor old _Njörun_ , being just a little smaller than our _Baldr_ , couldn’t accept everything meant for it and so the Lieutenant commanding _Cross Knight_ and his crew had to sail home with several casks of rum and salt beef along with a ship’s Boat and some chains. We then sailed as far as we could and for several days have been waiting for the ice to break with both ships moored to a berg; today we encountered a whaling party likewise stymied by the ice and the sight of their ship raised everyone’s spirits. Sir Sigurd and Ice-Master Lewyn held a shouted conversation over the side of our ship to the whaler’s captain. Lewyn believes the ice will be breaking up within the next two days.

Sir Sigurd’s invited the whaling captain to dinner in hopes he’ll agree to serve as the carrier for our mail and records of the expedition to-date. Sir Quan and Lady Ethlyn have come over from _Njörun_ for the occasion; meanwhile Lieutenant Isaach and Second Mate Alec are going over to the whaling ship to pay a visit to their crew.

If Lewyn is correct about the ice, we’ll soon be on our way along the coast of Archanea. Sir Sigurd says that the navigation practice I may obtain making our way past the small islands off the shore will set me in good stead for my lieutenant’s examination on our return!

With deepest affection,

Your Nephew Oifey C. 

-x-

Lewyn isn’t invited to dinner with the whaling captain, which is just as well given he’s got a jumble of ice to pay attention to now. Still, he has to eat, and Lewyn comes down from his nest to the officer’s mess when it’s time. Lieutenant Isaach’s off being entertained by the whalers and, knowing whalers, Lewyn almost wishes he could be over there just to see what happens should they get boisterous with her. 

After several days of boredom everyone’s restless tonight. Sir Sigurd’s massive white dog Farron is thumping his tail against the table legs and Lewyn slips Farron some morsels of ox from tonight’s stew in hopes of calming him down. This makes Farron decide he wants to be between Lewyn’s boots for the rest of the meal. Lewyn then turns toward Jamke, the ship’s purser, who stands out as the quiet man at their table.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Jamke shakes his head a little. 

“I got the feeling the whaling captain wanted to have a word with Sir Sigurd in private,” says Jamke. “I can’t imagine why.”

Jamke, truth be told, isn’t the most imaginative of men, but Lewyn did think there was something strange about the way the other captain accepted Sir Sigurd’s invitation— a level of relief that went beyond simple pleasure at coming across a new group of human beings on the arctic seas.

Lewyn considers himself a man with considerable depth of imagination, but he’s at a loss right now. He gets the answer later that evening, when he’s returned to his nest. In the summer twilight he sees the whaling captain leave for his own ship… and then sees Lieutenant Isaach and Alec the mate return to _Baldr_. There’s another person in the boat with them. She’s in long robes like some kind of cleric and thick waves of hair, pale as the moonlight on ice, spill out from under her hood.

Lewyn has better sense than to whistle. Up in the crow’s nest nobody can see him grin, though, and he does. Things are about to get interesting.

**To Be Continued**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farron the big white dog was inspired by Farron, Sigurd's big white horse, from the FE4 light novel.


	5. Fellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new passenger on Baldr causes a bit of a stir, rattling even the Ship's Boy.

Lewyn’s on duty as _Baldr_ sails through ultramarine seas marked by bergs that look like floating fragments of cathedrals, fantasias of white stone and blue glass. It’s been nine beautiful days since the ice broke up enough to let the Discovery Service ships part ways from the whalers and Lewyn’s watching for the first trace of the true Arctic ice that’ll tell him they’ve encountered the northern pack they’ll battle from here on out along the Archanean coast. 

Down below, Azelle is pulling up yet another bucket of marine life, now assisted by his new apprentice. Deirdre, the girl from the whaling vessel, turns out to have a stomach for slimy and squirming sea-creatures that her ethereal appearance didn’t suggest. Anxious to prove her worth to Sir Sigurd, she’s offered to aid Azelle in his studies and Azelle’s put her straight to work. They make an amusing pair, particularly as Deirdre stands a few fingers in height above the little assistant surgeon.

Someone else is taking the time to observe Azelle and his assistant. Tad, one of _Baldr_ ’s two Ship’s Boys, has stopped his inspections of the rigging and is staring wide-eyed at the pair of naturalists. Ship’s Boys are a curious thing to Lewyn. Some of them, like young Shannan Isaach, the Second Lieutenant’s nephew, are the scions of fine families and can look forward to a path from Boy to midshipman to lieutenant and then to one day command their own vessel. Shannan might not stay in the service long enough to make Captain, as he also stands to inherit his own father’s noble title, but either way his future’s mapped out. Others, like Tad, are urchins of no family at all, come to sea to find a way forward in life that doesn’t involve workhouses or prison… or something equally terrible.

Lewyn lets Tad stare a little while longer but then clears his throat loudly enough the Boy knows someone’s watching him neglect his duty. Tad looks upward, his eyes wide but filled with no shame at all.

“It’s best you get back to work, Master Tad,” says Lewyn, though he feels not a little like a hypocrite for saying it.

“Sorry, sir. I was hoping to get the chance to help out the Reverend and Mister Azelle myself, but it seems like they’ve got someone…” Tad’s voice shifts up and down between a childish, even girlish treble and a semblance of a grown man’s baritone.

“Well, if you’re good and complete the duties already assigned to you, I can ask Sir Sigurd about making you my assistant in reading the ice.”

“Really, sir?”

“Cross my heart,” says Lewyn. “Now, run along.”

“Thanks, sir!” Tad squeals, and he scoots along as nimbly as a little monkey on the rigging.

Lewyn’s not sure why he made the offer— Tad’s bright, but easily distracted. He seems clever in an intuitive way, not a diligent or bookish way like Oifey the midshipman. Besides that, a man of Lewyn’s own checkered past probably shouldn’t be mentoring anyone. But some spark of protection’s awakened in Lewyn when it comes to the Boy, even if it’s just a sense of dread for what harm might befall a lad with a smooth and pretty face and too much trust in strangers.

-x-

August 10, Grann Year 757

It seems the Assistant Surgeon now has his own Assistant. Miss Deirdre volunteered her services to Sir Sigurd as a means of compensation for giving her passage and he readily accepted and placed her in the care of the Reverend, who then put me in charge of her. Our new crew member hails from a small village on the coast of Orgahill… one not consequential enough to be found on any map, she says. There she learned the ways of coastal plants and ocean life in the company of her grandmother and while she’s unfamiliar with most of the powders and tinctures in a surgeon’s medicine chest— Coca Syrup and Laudanum not being elixirs used by the natives of Orgahill— Miss Deirdre readily identified plant specimens with their local names and told me of the benefits they provide.

Then too, she is not the least squeamish when it comes to marine life though she is glad to be off the whaling ship, which reeked of death and rendered blubber. She has a great affection for Whales, for as a child she encountered the survivors from a whaling crew who suffered the loss of their Ship, which they claimed was rammed by a Whale with clear intent as though in revenge for the slaughter of its pod. If Porpoises rescue humans in distress, as they are known to do in every sea of Jugdral, and a Grandmother Whale can rage at the loss of her Kin, then the Great Whales ought to be accorded respect as our own Fellows beneath the waves and not as mere Beasts to be converted into Perfume and Oil and low-quality Meat. So goes her argument, though this is of course highly unorthodox a line of debate, especially coming from one formally unschooled. I then steered our conversation to a safer topic, that of the Walrus, which did impress me as some manner of wise old man when we encountered them at Orgahill. Miss Deirdre laughed her charming laugh and said that as a child, she’d go down to their colonies and consult a Walrus as though he were some bearded and whiskered Sage. The advice given her by these Sages, she admitted, was often not the best.

A.V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, Boys at sea are a bit complicated. Some officers started off as Boys, particularly those who served as an officer's servant, whereas other Boys were on a path that could make them at best a senior crew member. Boys were not all children, either-- those on the actual Franklin Expedition were all eighteen and older.

**Author's Note:**

> So, ranks and promotions were a bit chaotic before the UK Royal Navy (upon which Grannvale's Navy in this is based) standardized but think of a midshipman from this approximate era as junior officer or officer-in-training. Ship's Boys or cabin boys were actually a fairly complicated matter with some destined to rise through the officers' ranks and others destined to simply become Able Seamen, but we'll get into that later. A fourteen-year old "young gentleman" from an illustrious family like the Chalphys is suitable midshipman material. (Yes, Njörun has an adorable junior officer as well. Take a wild guess.) Yes, technically Oifey in canon seems more distant a cousin from Sigurd than the first degree but he's calling Byron "uncle" as a courtesy thing.
> 
> Ice Master is quite the important role but trust me, Lewyn's dodgy credentials are the least of this crew's future problems.


End file.
